Default to Life

You can feel the season changing,
dark of the moon into a new day morn.
The first golden leaf appears, and another.

Three plants survived the summer storms.
One proudly raises her lush leaves and blossoms to the sky.
One has the wild look of a boxer after winning a tough fight.
The last is beaten down in defeat, prostrated, but a lone red flower stretches up from the dragging debris.
She is my favorite, reaching for one more shot at the sun, default to life.

The bird flies,
blue peeks through the clouds,
sounds still,
and the breeze rustles the trees.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019


Popular posts from this blog

Letter to my future self

Still the Birds Sing